Why?

Do you have the answer to this ‘why’? I know you don’t, as you yourself are a victim of this word. You yourself have the least idea as to ‘why’ things take ‘that’ turn every so often. And probably, you yourself are unaware of the ‘fact’ that now you can’t help it. For the simple reason that it has become your second nature now. Or the first one.

Good that you’ve realized, like always. Only to be even more determined than the last time that you have hit that chord ‘this’ time that lets you ‘perform’ those ‘acts’ over and over.

Good that you’ve just made me look like a fool, once again. It’s not the question of you deserving or not deserving ‘something’ in life; it’s the plain question targeted towards me – do I deserve all this? Before I could even ponder over this biggest question of my life, I have the answer ready – yes, I do. I deserve this. I do deserve this. Else, you tell me – if you were me, would you have given yourself even a second chance to run through the same pain once again? Or, at the most, a third chance? I know you wouldn’t have! Sensible you. Insensible me.

What do I do now? And ‘why’ should I come to a decision what to do now, in the first place? I think I’m still so very weak – weaker than the last time. Even after so many past (back) stabbings, I tried to stand still (holding those ‘memories’ somewhere inside me – I can’t forget it, I can’t help it, even today)! Only that ‘pile’ has grown bigger. Bigger. Even bigger. And so has my pain.

It’s just beyond my thinking process – as my tears are rolling down, hundreds after hundreds – were eight years not sufficient? Did those feelings, those emotions appear to be fake? Were my ‘so-called’ inputs simply going into the garbage box, next to your heart? A ‘yes’ to all these queries, and I’m sorted. But, hold on, not at ease. I’m even more distressed now. Because you have not only confirmed my ‘doubts’, you have run off with the last possibility that could have freed me from this anxiety.

I hate this. But want to console myself. I know no thoughts could raise my spirits at this moment. Or for the next few days. Or till the time I’m alive, breathing. Or… I don’t know till when. In reality, I should be slapped. Hurt even more. Shouted at badly. Thrown out of this world. But not pitied, for the sake of that god who gave me a mind I could use. Sorry god, but you know what – you made me like that. You sowed that oh-I-just-can’t-imagine-my-life-without-him seed inside me. I’m not blaming you here. Just trying to console myself. I know I shouldn’t. I don’t deserve that either. Because it’s not my fate. I made it this way. I had the power. I had the keys into my hands. I misused it. In fact, I just didn’t look at it at all. Not a single time out of the zillion times. Poor me – and here, I just consoled myself for the last time. And when I say last time, I bloody mean last time.